The Neathbow Wedding: the Grand Day!

As planned, Nullman’s organza dress has now caught up with the ball and featured the entire neathbow in unbalanced amounts. This would later become one of the finest and most kaleidoscopic mementos of a beautiful day, years after it happened. What wasn’t planned though is the fact that all this rapturous chaos and enthusiastic noise was a little too rough for the taste of the petite ex-seeker. She started shuffling over through the warfare, heading towards August, but in the meantime she got caught with an onslaught of powder. By the time she reached her husband and interrupted his dance she was wiping viric and peligin from her scarred face.
“H-Hey, Augie, it’s a little too loud here. I’ll be outside, okay?”
Afterwards she started heading outside, with a plate of cosmogone cake as her only company. A little fresh air would be a pleasant change of pace.

August looked at Nullman with a laugh as he was hit with more coloured powder. “Alright dear, do stay safe, be back soon. The cake isn’t gonna eat itself.” He said with a wink as he let go of Lady Swan and looked at Lady Byron, “may I have this dance?” He asked her, he looked around soon the Kaleidoscopic Cortège would start as soon as as the last dance would conclude. Then they could celebrate further in Parabola.

Jolanda steps away from the dance floor with a bow, picks up drinks and sees Nullman to give her one. Not thet Nullman is ever easy to find, especially amidst clouds of colour.

Jolanda steps away from the dance floor with a bow, picks up drinks and sees Nullman to give her one. Not thet Nullman is ever easy to find, especially amidst clouds of colour.

The colours of the Neathbow flew overhead, showering the hall in a mess that would undoubtedly be hell to clean up afterwards. Hopefully the staff will be well compensated for. I would hate for the newlyweds to fall to disgruntled servants. As for me, I sat in a fortress, constructed via flipped tables and reinforced with more and more empty buckets. Flour was running low, and it was soon clear that we would be overrun. It was only a matter of time. The suit I wear whisper-screams retribution into my ears. Eliza is quiet, silently humming. Not good.

I observed the others in the meantime. I can see our demise. I also notice Lady Nullman taking a step outside. She is not who I expected. But she seems happy, if not overwhelmed. She strikes a good balance with Honeyaddict, I can only presume. I am truly happy for them. I had never thought I would see the day Honeyaddict get married, but if so, it appears to be good luck that it would be with a woman like Lady Nullman.

The carousel has painted delightful patterns onto my outfit. I wonder if I could be given the oppurtunity to wear it into Parabola. If so, I will have a courier return my original apparel home. Artillery resumes battering the fort. Men and women charge, carrying buckets of flour, no doubt to bury us. I blame Eliza.

“It would be my honor and delight to dance with you August,” Lady Byron answers, dropping him a tiny curtsy. “And Jolanda,” she calls after her friend, “promise me you’ll save me a dance either here or beyond the mirrors!”

“Thank you Sapho, after our dance I’m going to ask for Nullman to come back for the last dance here, you can in the meanwhile have a little dance already with Jolanda.” He said with a chuckle.“After all, there are only so many things one can do in what is, behind the mirror much more is possible.”

The bandaged Monsieur Kerzenfeuer, who identified himself as the bride’s uncle, was having a jolly time himself as well, as rare as that was, but he wasn’t very fond of all the colours; they made him cough. While he usually would restrain himself from returning vibrant attacks, it made him raise an eyebrow when he spotted Augus with his guard down. Kerzenfeuer stepped alongside a table filled with powdered-up drinks before grabbing a handful of gant and flinging it over at the husband. His crisp and provocative laugh was followed up with a sly wave at him and another sip of the viric-tasting wine. He did eventually wonder where the bride disappeared and eventually found her out of bounds. Once he took Jolanda’s glass from the non-drinking bride he started pulling her inside.
“This is your marriage, you silly! Get in there! The last dance could happen any moment now!” he insisted with a hiss.
“Fine, fine! Okay!” squealed Nullman and looked around, gasping in awe when she noticed an actual table-fortress that has been strategically built. She managed to slip out of the claws of her uncle and flee over to the fort, knocking on one of the tabletops.
“A princess needs rescue!” she giggled and expected free passage inside.

Jolanda notices the exchange, confused. Oh well, this is what bridesmaids are for. “Monsieur Kerzenfeuer! May I have a word?” she smiles, in multicoloured lips.

Soon enough August finished his dance with Lady Byron and set out to look for Nullman. Who he couldn’t see with all the colourful flour flying, creating a dense kaleidoscopic blanket of colours.
edited by Honeyaddict on 1/24/2019

Hmmm… Wow. How am we still standing?.. There’s so much flour in the air, we’d probably created a brand new colour. My breathing’s a miracle. -Cough- But the castle still holds strong, even with all the attacks we’ve taken. Of course, ‘What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger~.’ Every attack repelled restocks our flour supply. Now, if only Harry could stop drawing on his clothes, it’d be gr- ‘Knock. Knock. A princess needs rescuing!’

…Wait. Isn’t that Lady Nullman?.. Oh my goodness. What… The bride herself has come, asking for help! Or is she rescuing me?.. Nah, I’m not a princess, I think. So clearly the bride herself needs rescuing, probably for some dastardly scoundrels clearly hoping to take the bride for themself! Or more likely to colour her with flour, but one can never be too careful! Grabbing a bucket from the floor to use as a helmet, I- Probably should’ve emptied this first. Oh well… I grabbed Lady Nullman’s hand to pull her into the safety of the castle. With her on our side, there’s no doubt aboug it.

‘You’ll never take us alive! Castle Nullman will stand forever! I, Knight of the Neathbow, will make sure of that!!!’

I could do with a cup of coffee after all this.

Kerzenfeuer stares at his niece run off and into hiding, then eyes the Lady Swan before walking back to her. His posture is slightly-crooked, his gait still prideful and his bandages beyond recognition. He takes off his ashy reading glasses to wipe some flour off of them with his fingers, revealing an eerily cold gaze.
“You may call me René,” he hisses with a smirk as he slips back on the glasses, “it’s my regular name. And of course you may have a word, glorious milady.”
Meanwhile Nullman acquainted herself with her new bunker-like surrounding and her gleaming teeth were showing as she was smirking proudly. Those teeth where the last thing on her which were pure by now. The black hair of hers lost its original colour a long time ago, and that ivory coloured dress was everything but ivory by now.
“That’s right! Long live Fort-…uhm-Castle Nullman!”
She looked around from this new, high position and eventually spotted her husband. “There he is! Get him!” she cried out with a cheerful warcry as her fingers had flour surrounding them, flingin it over at August with nothing but the best of intentions.

Jolanda looks at the mayhem, then at Kerzenfeuer. “A… a dance?” she asks in the end, gesturing towards the dancefloor.

And amidst that kaleidoscopic blanket of colours rested the apparent fort of ‘Castle Nullman’ with its bucket ramparts and double reinforced table walls.

Honestly, Fort Nullman rolls off the tongue far better than ‘Castle Nullman’.

I myself personally could go for a strong bottle of wine, preferably the type that will help me to forget the last 30 seconds as I watched Eliza be Eliza. As if things were not nerve-wracking enough, what with the Bride herself having paid us a visit. I do not wish to bear witness to the Bride being bodyslammed, either by an overzealous Stag, or an overenstustiactic ‘Knight of the bloody Neathbow’. -Cough- Still, she is the lucky bride and a guest to our rather well-defended fort. I appropriate a still intact bottle of wine from our cellar, a carefully hidden tray, alongside 3 glasses that admittedly could do with less flour.

The bride appears to be enjoying herself quite well, a rather delightful sight to bear witness to. Even Eliza seems more lively than ever. Of course, I myself must play my part in the aerial bombardment of Honeyaddict. Sorry, my good friend, but it is my duty to do so. Now I must ask. What is your favorite colour?

“My favourite colour… I’m torn between three shades really, Apocyan, Cosmogene and Viric.” He said with a laugh as he made his way to the so-called fort. “Come on Nullman, time for the last dance of this event, we still need to march through the streets down to Veilgarden’s honeydens.” He said with a laugh as he was pelleted by handsful of the coloured flour, his whisper-satin suit now being as colourful, if not more colourful than his previously worn attire to marry in before the Masters themselves.

Kerzenfeuer slowly raises an eyebrow; that being visible even under the loose bandages. “A dance? Oh my well isn’t that an offer? Allow me to lead then.” he fluted with a strange-pitched voice and gently bowed while stretching out his hand for lady Jolanda to accept. Once they were on the dancefloor/battlefield this so called Kerzenfeuer seemed to really like skipping beats, but still his moves were just deft enough to never step on her feet, or allow the opposite to happen! Every third beat in the songs that played from the mostly-inviolate band he would skip, and the only way Jolanda could not embarrass herself is by not mentioning it and playing along amongst all the people.
A___ looked down at August from her stolen establishment and pouted, like a child to their parent. “Awh! But I was just getting into the whole thing!” She then sighed and looked back at the owners of the place. “I’m sorry guys, time to dance for me! It was great to meet you though! Please don’t talk to me on the streets if you see me; use messages!” The last bit could’ve sounded more rude than necessary, but for a gameborne agent this is common sense. She jumped down and immediately took cover behind August, graciously letting him lead.

Soon August went to the dancefloor while holding Nullman’s hand as he motioned towards the band to change the melody to a slow waltz. The lamps were focused on them, by using mirrors to make the light shine on them through the flour, it certainly had a nice effect. Although if something went wrong like the flame breaking out of the glass container, it could spell out disaster as this room, filled with flour was essentially a powder keg. They passed Kerzenfeuer while they danced, August was starting to loose his patience with him, from how he had treated Nullman and now the way he was treating the other guests. &quotRené, I have an idea, you mentioned you wanted to impress the Masters, correct?&quot He asked rhetorically as they passed one another while he waltzed with A___. &quotHow about you go talk about your books with Mr. Pages and about your Whisper-Satin Suit, now coloured beyond recognition with Veils, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.&quot He suggested to the bandaged colonist, who looked like he’d fall apart into brittle pieces any moment.

Well, I did promise to hit the newlyweds. Now’s a good time, I guess. Like romantic fireworks, but not actually fireworks. Fairly sure that Harry’d drown me at the boatman’s side if I explode us all. Though… Nah.

With the bride gone, my strength’s fleeting. Defending a castle is rough. Course, any Stag’ll have to fight like hell to take this from me and Harry. After that though…

Hey Swan! Want a dance with someone who actually can dance?!

“Ah, yes! Yes, very much so! Shall you come out of the fort, or shall I come in?”

The very suggestion of presenting a neathbowy suit to Veils seemed to have lit up an idea, visible like a flare’s glint in René’s eyes, and he already was off with a strange lumbering walk. He wasn’t drunk, that was certain, but what was up with the man then? Did he have any of that black wings absinthe? Do they even serve that here? Probably not.

Nullman on the other hand seemed to pay little attention to the greedy exit of her uncle, or to anyone else really. Was it the powder that was choking her? Was it August’s lovestruck eyes? Part of it certainly had to be the fact that she also doesn’t really display an enviable skill of rhytmic swirling. “Oh-Ah! Sorry, heh!” she would constantly whisper to August. Well, at least it’s not something intentional. She would also let August know, in whispers, of her sorry state and how they really should have practiced this before. This isn’t the kind of dance she is accustomed with, but she did try her best to keep up while also displaying the coy smile of sweet embarassment because of her lack of proper waltz classes.